Life after Death
by Tsunami Storm
Summary: So, this story is basically my head-canon 'prequel' to the movie, what happened between Héctor's flashbacks and Miguel's adventure in the Land of the Dead, though I'm mostly going to be focusing on the dead members of the Rivera family. What can I say, I'm a sucker for tragedy and the supernatural. But don't worry, we'll get to see some of the living too. Eventually.
1. Hector

**¡Bienvenidos a todos!** Welcome to my first of (hopefully) many forays into the ' **C** **O** **C** **O** ' universe! I am completely _obsessed_ with this movie, and I'm not even exaggerating when I say that I've seen it over fifty times already. Netflix is truly a wonderful thing. Lol

So, this story is basically my head-canon 'prequel' to the movie, what happened between Héctor's flashbacks and Miguel's adventure in the Land of the Dead, though I'm mostly going to be focusing on the dead members of the Rivera family. What can I say, I'm a sucker for tragedy _and_ the supernatural. But don't worry, we'll get to see some of the living too. Eventually.

I've had this story and many others bouncing around in my head for a while now, ever since I first beheld the masterpiece that is a great big hug to the rich **Méxican** culture and history. I sincerely hope I do it justice. Cross your phalanges! And with that, let's dive right in! Me first!

 _ **Disclaimer:**_ I don't own ' **C** **O** **C** **O** ', any of it. I don't even have a physical copy of the movie yet! What is wrong with you, self?! Why haven't you bought it yet?! Anyway, all ownership and copyright claims go to Disney/Pixar, I'm just a crazy fangirl writing away with your amazing characters, and I'm not planning on making a single **peso** off of this story. It's for entertainment purposes only.

"Spoken"

 _Thought and Emphasized words_

 **Spanish words** (Translations will be at the bottom)

[Underlined and bracketed is Author's Notes]

Hyphens - **¡Hola!** \- represent time-skips within the same scene

Line breaks like this:

* * *

represent scene changes and the beginning/end of a chapter

Enjoy, and I'll see you at the AN at the end!

Life after Death, a ' **C** **O** **C** **O** ' fanfic by Tsunami Storm

Chapter 1: Héctor

* * *

Pain.

That's the last thing I remember.

I was just walking to the train station in **México** City, my best friend- no, my _**hermano**_ in all but blood- Ernesto de la Cruz walking by my side, when I felt the most horrible pain in my stomach. It was so intense that I doubled over immediately, too overcome to even _think,_ much less do anything else. What in the world happened? Did I eat something that had gone bad? Perhaps Ernesto was right. Maybe it _was_ that **chorizo**. I _thought_ they tasted a little funny.

I felt myself falling, but I couldn't keep myself upright as my vision failed and faded to black. Vaguely, some small part of my brain registered that my right hand wasn't holding my guitar case anymore. Ernesto must've been trying to help by carrying it for me. Such a considerate friend.

-At least, that's what I thought.

When I woke up after what seemed only a few minutes, I found myself alone on the dimly-lit street, sitting under a carriage lamp-post lit with a candle instead of the newer and more efficient lightbulb.

The next thing that registered in my mind was that both my suitcase and my guitar were gone. I looked frantically up and down the street for them, but they appeared to have vanished into thin air with my best friend. Where was Ernesto? What- what was going on?

Suddenly a gust blew past me, and I felt the strangest sensation of wind passing- not around- but right _through_ my ribs! That wasn't supposed to happen! I looked down at myself and shattered at least three octaves with my scream of horror.

My hands were _bones._ My feet were _bones_ slipped into my **zapatos**. I could _see_ every single one of my _ribs_ under my collared shirt and **chaqueta** of my **charro**. I mean, I'd always been thin, but I'd never been _this_ bad! When I put my hands up to my face in an unconscious 'systems check', my terror grew as I realized that I couldn't feel my ears or my nose anymore, though I could somehow still smell and hear the sounds of the city at night. My phalanges scraped roughly against my bare skull as they slid down my narrow cheekbones, my brain racing a hundred miles an hour as I tried unsuccessfully to process all this. What happened to me? It's almost like I'm-

Oh no.

I'm not-

I can't be-

 _Woof!_ came a friendly sounding bark as the last living being I was expecting came bounding up to me and proceeded to lick me all over my face. Or at least, what was left of it. It was basically just a skull now, with eyes, teeth and hair. Unable to help myself, I laughed as I attempted to push the friendly beast off me so I could get a good look at him, the animal barking and panting happily all the while.

To my slight surprise, I realized my newest friend was a half-grown **Xoloitzcuintli** , or **Xolo** dog for short. A hairless breed, these canines were believed by the ancient peoples of Central America to possess supernatural powers, and could guide the souls of the dead to the next leg of their journey. I'd seen a few street dogs in **Santa Cecilia** of this particular breed, but I'd never believed the legends about them. Guess I should _now_ , though, now that I'm literally _proving_ the legends _true_ at this very moment.

" **Hola,** **perro**. You can see me? What's your name, huh?" I asked the mutt, knowing that I wouldn't get an answer. He just looked like a plain old dog. Or a sausage someone dropped in a barbershop. I snorted softly to myself at the amusing mental image. That sounded like something my twin **cuñados** would say.

Oh God. Óscar! Felipe! Imelda! **¡Ay,** **Dios** **mio!** _Coco_! My little Socorro! I can't ever see them again! I'm- I'm trapped! I can never go home! No! This- this can't be happening! This must be a nightmare! **Por favor,** **Dios** **, Santa Maria** , please let this be a terrible dream and let me _wake up_!

"You're new around here, aren't you, **amigo**?" came a gruff voice from a few yards away from me, and I looked up with terrified and horror-filled eyes to the face of a skeleton frowning back at me with what seemed like concern.

I couldn't help it. I screamed again. Mercifully, my exclamation stayed within my normal vocal range this time, so I didn't embarrass myself in front of this stranger- skeleton. I shuddered. This must be more of the nightmare I was lost in.

"Guess that answers _that_ question. I hate to be the one to tell you this, **amigo** , but this isn't a dream. You're dead. Might as well accept it, since there's nothing that can change it. Sorry you had to kick it so young, though. It's never easy seein' young'uns like you on this side of the ole Mortal Veil." The short skeleton sighed heavily, offering a bony hand for me to shake. Which I did, after a minute. It was good to see that I still remembered my manners despite everything that was hitting me all at once today.

"Name's Chicharron, but call me 'Chich'. Everybody else does." The skeleton known as Chich growled, though not unkindly.

"H- Héctor. Héctor Rivera." I quavered nervously after I'd withdrawn my hand.

"Oh, the **músico** in the Cantina a few days ago? Those were some great numbers you and your **amigo** played. You have a great talent, **muchacho**." Chicharron raised an eye-ridge when I gasped in surprise. I hadn't expected to be recognized. Especially by someone who was already d- d- I couldn't even form the word in my mind.

" **G- gracias** , **Señor** Chich. I- I'm glad you enjoyed them." I stammered, feeling just a little bit bashful at the praise. A small part of my mind wondered if skeletons could still blush without cheeks or blood vessels- or _blood_ , for that matter. And apparently, skeletons still had eyes as well. Does that mean that they can still cry? Who knows?

"Just 'Chich'. No need to be so formal." The older man- skeleton- huffed gruffly, giving the impression that he wasn't one to beat around the bush. Glancing over at the **Xolo** , who- at the moment- was chewing on his own hind leg, Chicharron again raised an eye-ridge and nodded to the mutt. "That your **alebrije**? Don't look too bright, does he?"

I just cocked my head, confused. " **Alebrije**? What are you talking about? You mean those strange animal mixes that that one **hombre** saw in a fever dream? I thought those were just legends."

Chich actually chuckled a little. "Lotta people say that. But they're as real as you or me. **Alebrijes** are spirit creatures. They guide souls on their journey. In this world, they can take on normal forms, usually the animal that they most resemble. For example, a winged jaguar with eagle's hind feet, ram's horns and a lizard tail would probably just look like a normal **gato** here. Though, **Xolos** tend to stay about the same, appearance-wise, given their 'natural' connection to the Spirit World." He explained, and I felt myself nodding slowly. All of this was very new to me, but it made sense in a weird way.

"So-" I began, not knowing what to do. "-what happens now? I- I can't go home, can I? So where do I go from here?"

Chicharron shook his head. "No. You can't go home. You have to get to the nearest **cempasúchil** bridge and make your way to the Land of the Dead. At least, that's what I've heard. Never been myself." He sighed, scratching his skull where a few pieces of duct tape were crossed over it. Apparently he'd died of blunt force trauma to the head. A small part of me was glad that my own- _death_ \- was not quite as violent as my new **amigo's** had been. **Ay** , that was gonna take some getting used to. Thinking about my death, I mean. And in the _past tense_!

"You know what? I think I may just come with you after all. I've hung around here long enough, and there's really nothing for me anymore. Besides, you look like you could use an **amigo**." Chich growled gruffly, and I nodded gratefully. At least I would know one person in this 'Land of the Dead' that he'd mentioned.

" **Gracias** , Chich. Really, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me, a complete stranger." I breathed, weak with relief that now I knew something of what was going on. Carefully so as not to dislocate anything, I made to get up off the sidewalk where I'd been sitting, but jerked back almost immediately with a cry of pain.

"Héctor? What happened?" Chich gasped, bending over me again as I gripped my lower right arm. Pain was radiating from my lower arm in waves, and it was all I could do to keep the whimpers back. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of my new **amigo**.

"Oi. That looks bad. Your ulna is fractured all the way through. What _happened_ , **amigo**? Were you hit by a car or something?" He gasped, gently drawing my arm away from my ribcage so that he could see it better in the light from the streetlamp.

"No. I think it was some bad **chorizo**. Or maybe the tequila. The last thing I remember was a terrible pain in my stomach. I felt myself falling, then everything went black." I answered with a frown. Something didn't seem right about my story. I'd heard of people dying of food poisoning, but it typically didn't happen that quickly.

Chich must have come to the same conclusion, because he growled, "Well, I'm no doctor, but I think you got a particularly bad case of food poisoning, **muchacho** \- though I've never heard of it happening that fast. I guess you broke your arm when you collapsed, huh?"

That didn't sound quite right either, so I shook my head. But what other possible explanation could there be? Just then, a ridiculous thought buzzed through my mind like an angry hornet. In a fit of jealousy, could Ernesto have casually just tossed my- body- in a ditch or shallow grave somewhere and disappeared with my guitar? He _did_ say that he couldn't achieve his dream without me- or, more precisely, my songs. Then I shook my head. Ernesto would _never_ do that. He was like a _brother_ to me, ever since we lived in the orphanage in **Santa Cecilia**. He was about four years older than I was, and I'd always looked up to him. He was confident, strong, charismatic, and talented, everything that I'd wanted to become. He was my inspiration. That is, until I met the most beautiful angel in the world, **mí corazón** , Imelda. And then, when we had Coco- my life was utter _bliss_. My heart- or memory of it, rather- melted at the thought of my adorable daughter, now fatherless at three years old, and Imelda, widowed at twenty-two.

I couldn't. I couldn't think about them. It was just too painful. My entire body- or at least, what was left of it- _ached_ from the mere _thought_ of them. Reality came crashing down on me again while I watched absentmindedly as Chicharron- bless him- was wrapping some extra duct tape around my fractured bone so it could heal properly. I could never see my family again. Not in _this_ world, anyway.

Just then, a wild hope flared to life and rose up in my chest. _They_ may not be able to see _me_ , but maybe there was a way that _I_ could still see _them_! Once a year, on the first of **Noviembre** , every **familia** in **México** sets up a shrine called an **ofrenda** with photos of their departed loved ones, along with offerings of foods that they'd loved in life. I knew Imelda had that picture that we'd had taken on Coco's birthday, just a few days before I left on tour. It would only be for one night every year, but it was better than nothing. There was a way that I could still see my family!

By this time, Chicharron had finished with his 'ministrations' with my arm, and I flexed it experimentally to see if it still bent properly. Satisfied, I gave him the biggest grin I could manage as thanks and stood to my feet, looking down at myself again in a vain attempt to pass off all of this as a really bad dream. Sighing heavily when that failed spectacularly, I shifted my hips slightly to adjust the way my trousers were sitting, when all of a sudden they dropped right to the ground with a _puff_ of dust from the dirt road.

Chicharron snorted loudly in amusement as I let out a 'Yipe!' of embarrassment and yanked them back up again, cinching the belt tighter around my pelvis to hold up my pants. I was even thinner now that I was just a skeleton with eyes, teeth and hair, so it made sense that I'd need to tighten my belt. If I'd still been able to blush, my face would probably have been bright **roja** as a tomato.

"It's not funny." I growled in embarrassment as Chicharron continued to chortle.

"Yes it is." He argued, still chuckling. "Your face was _priceless_."

I just scowled and shook my head, deciding to ignore my new friend for the moment as I adjusted the rest of my clothes. Everything was several sizes too big now for my literally bony frame, so I tightened my bow-tie and rolled up the sleeves of my undershirt so that it would fill out my arms a bit better. Or rather, lack thereof.

A small distance away, the **Xolo** that was apparently my **alebrije** was busy scratching himself behind a notched ear and panting in a 'friendly dog' manner as he did so. I whistled quietly for him to come, and- to my surprise- he came bounding up faster than you could say ' **Xoloitzcuintli** ', nearly running into me and scattering my bones across the road. Luckily, the area was deserted at this time of night- or early morning- otherwise I would have feared for his safety with all the cars and horse-drawn carriages on one of the main streets of the city.

"Let's go, boy." I sighed heavily again as I bent down to pet the animal's head affectionately. He was a good dog. It wasn't _his_ fault I was in this predicament, so I had no reason to take it out on him. "I don't belong on this side anymore. You think you could show us the way to the Land of the Dead?"

The dog perked up at that, as if someone had suddenly flipped a switch in his brain. He was a lot smarter than he'd first let on. Before, he was just acting like a brainless animal that had no clue what was going on, but now he looked as calm and stoic as one of those canines used by officers of the law or the blind and/or otherwise disabled. Trotting along down the road, the **Xolo** would look back every ten paces or so to make sure that we were following. I would smile encouragingly at him whenever this would happen, trying to establish a bond of trust and mutual respect with the animal spirit guide.

I took in as much of the capitol city as I could while we walked, somehow knowing that I wouldn't see it for a very long time. If ever again. On our trek, we passed by a post office, and I was sorely tempted to slip my final letter home into the mail slot in the door- along with a photo of myself for my **familia** so they would remember me. Ernesto had helped me take that picture a few weeks ago, and I was wearing the widest and goofiest grin I could manage for my **niña pequeña** , to make her smile. Then I sighed. I was incorporeal now, as was everything I had on me. It was impossible for the dead to interact with any of the living. Wasn't it? Sighing heavily and with a heavier heart, I shuffled past the post office and glanced almost yearningly through the windows, just imagining my family back home, waiting patiently for a letter- and _father_ \- that would never come. Vaguely, I noticed that the postal service building had a calendar tacked to one of the walls, and I gave a jolt of surprise when I saw today's date. It was the last day of November, 1921. In other words, my birthday. The same as my _death-day_. Oh, the irony. **Dios** **mio** , if this is your idea of a joke, I'm not the least bit amused!

Eventually we came to an enormous cemetery, where lay the bones of thousands- if not more- of **México** City's sons and daughters over the years. Who knows? Perhaps even some of the old Aztec people were buried here, as **México** City was once known as **Tenochtitlán** , the capitol of the ancient empire in the 1500s. The cemetery extended right into the desert, where dust devils and miniature sandstorms stirred up the ever-changing landscape as if they could never make up their minds. Now, however, I couldn't see the desert at all. At the edge of the graveyard was a cavernous ravine, probably over a thousand-foot drop straight down into a vast river that meandered slowly over its bed, continuing its course from time immemorial to time eternal. Immediately, I knew that this was no ordinary river. It was a river of the dead, one that separated the two worlds so that they could not mix.

"So- what, do they expect us to just _swim_ over there?" I mused- half to myself and half aloud- as my **alebrije** bounded ahead, dodging gravestones and crucifixes like a professional.

"Huh?" Chich answered, looking around himself at the expansive boneyard. "Nah. Didn't you see that bridge over there? That's our path across."

I looked in the direction that he was pointing, and I was so surprised at the sight that met my eyes that they fell right through my skull and down into my mouth, where they rolled around a little in my lower jaw. Chich chuckled again as I hit my chin to push my eyes back into their sockets, then both of us followed my excitable **alebrije** to the suspended bridge that seemed to be made of millions of marigolds and their petals.

"See? What'd I tell ya? That's the **cempasúchil** bridge. Pretty, huh? It'll take us right to the Land of the Dead. But I gotta warn ya. It's a 'One Way' road for most of the year, only turning 'Two Way' for **Día de** **Muertos**. Once you cross, there's no way to get back to this side again, except on the first of November. You sure you got everything?" Chich asked in concern, and I slowly nodded.

"I didn't _have_ anything here except the clothes on my back when we met, and besides, it's not like I can walk _all_ the way back to **Santa Cecilia** and go home to my family. **Ay,** **Dios** **mio** , this is a mess." I huffed with a barely concealed sob. My family will never see me again in this world. My **loco** (in a good way) **cuñados** , Óscar and Felipe. **Mí amor** , my Imelda. My little Coco- I couldn't hold it in any longer. Collapsing to my knees, I wept- though I shed no tears. Apparently that wasn't possible anymore. I wept for my family, for my home- for the small town I'd known and loved all my life- and yes, I wept for myself- for my life cut so tragically short after barely twenty-one years.

" **Sí**. Them's the breaks." Chich growled somewhat sympathetically. I came to notice that he growled a lot when he was emotional. He didn't smile much, only when something was genuinely funny- like when I lost my pants earlier. And he wasn't exactly the 'friendly' type, with his gruff exterior. But I could tell that he had a good heart, figuratively, under all that 'emotionless armor'. If he didn't, then why would he have helped me come to terms with what happened and explain what came next after d- death? I still couldn't really think that word without wincing.

"Well, we're not gonna get anywhere just standing here all night." Chich growled again, sauntering off toward the marigold bridge and shooting a glance back at me to see if I was following. After a moment, I did so, sparing one last glance for the Land of the Living, the sprawling **México** City, and the train station at the far end. The train's whistle drowned out my resigned sigh as the locomotive finally left the station. That was the train that would have taken me home, had it not been for that stupid **chorizo**. In fact, I still had my ticket in the pocket of my trousers. Maybe I could trade it for something I might need on the other side? Was such a thing possible?

" **Oye** , Héctor. You coming?" Chich called, snapping me out of my reverie, one booted foot already stepping on the edge of the bridge.

" **¡Sí! ¡Esperamé,** **amigo** **!** " I called back, weaving through the tombstones and graves to the edge of the boneyard where my friend and spirit guide were waiting- somewhat patiently- for me.

We all passed through some sort of mist-like barrier at the foot of the bridge that divided the Land of the Living from that of the Dead, and an orange mist seemed to evaporate off me and my human companion. I hadn't noticed before, but apparently we'd been emitting our own auras. _That_ was a little freaky. My **alebrije** , however, looked exactly the same as he bounded ahead of us, rolling around excitedly in the **cempasúchil** petals and making them fly all over the place. I smiled sadly. At least _one_ of us was having a good time.

"Hey, you silly!" I laughed softly as I caught up with my exuberant spirit animal. "I thought you were supposed to be my _guide_. You can't go running off on me like that!" I teased him gently. "You gotta stay with me, boy. We don't know- where- we-"

I never finished that thought as the sight of the sprawling Land of the Dead caught my attention, and my lower jaw fell right off the bottom of my skull in shock. Too flabbergasted to pick it up, I just sat there like an **idiota** as Chich walked up and put a bony hand on my collarbone.

"Quite a sight, huh?" He chuckled as nonchalantly as possible, but I could tell that he was just as floored as I was.

"That's an understatement, **amigo**." I managed to gasp after about two minutes, finally replacing my jawbone back on my face.

"Well, this bridge won't stay here forever. It blows away by dawn, saw it happen a billion times before. So, unless you wanted to go swimming in that river today, I suggest we get our **culatas** moving over to that 'New Arrivals' sign over there and see what's next." Chich raised an eye-ridge and I stood to my feet, nodding and following my rather blunt friend off the **cempasúchil** bridge, and to the Land that would become my prison- for the next ninety-six years.

* * *

End of chapter 1

Next chapter teaser: Victoria

Ah, our favorite lovable, a _dork_ able goofball. May he _finally_ rest in peace with his family. Gotta feel for the poor guy.

I mean, not only was he _murdered_ by his _best friend_ , said best friend also made a _laughingstock_ of him by lying about how he died. He didn't choke on a **chorizo**. He didn't get food poisoning, (which was his own guess and was actually pretty close to the truth). He was flat-out _poisoned_. Just for trying to go home to his _family_. He was _homesick_. He probably would have come back to the tour at some point if Ernesto de la CREEP hadn't been so jealous and greedy.

Okay, sorry. Rant over. I just really love those 'big brother' characters, and Héctor is no exception despite the fact that he's actually Miguel's great-great grandfather rather than a big brother. It's almost the same thing. Their dynamic in the movie is so precious and innocent, it's like they really _are_ brothers, technically only nine years apart in age.

Gah, I went on another rant! Okay, stop that.

I absolutely _love_ this guy! He looks like a bum, but he's got a heart of pure gold in that string-bean torso of his. XD

So, this is my take on what happened after Héctor's flashback to his murder. Just my head-canon. You're free to come to your own conclusions.

I heavily reference a picture from dA in this story. Its 'you are new around here' by 'Kerolunatica'.

This also provides a plausible explanation for why Héctor had a photo of himself when he met Miguel in the LotD. It makes sense, don't it?

Translations (for those who need it):

 **Bienvenidos a todos** \- welcome to all

 **Peso** \- dollar

 **Hola** \- hello

 **Hermano** \- brother

 **Chorizo** \- spicy Méxican sausage dish

 **Zapatos** \- shoes

 **Chaqueta** \- jacket

 **Charro suit** \- Mariachi outfit

 **Santa Cecilia** \- Saint Cecilia (Patron saint of musicians)

 **Perro** \- dog

 **Cuñado(s)** \- brother(s)-in-law

 **Ay** \- Oh

 **Dios** **mío** \- my God

 **Por favor** \- please

 **Santa Maria** \- Saint Mary

 **Amigo** \- friend

 **Músico** \- musician

 **Muchacho** \- young man

 **Gracias** \- thank you

 **Señor** \- sir or mister

 **Alebrije** \- Spirit guide, usually an amalgam of various creatures, brightly multicolored

 **Hombre** \- Man or guy

 **Gato** \- cat

 **Cempasúchil** \- marigold petal

 **Mí corazón** \- my heart

 **Noviembre** \- November

 **Familia** \- family

 **Ofrenda** \- family shrine

 **Roja** \- red

 **Niña pequeña** \- little girl

 **Dia de (los)** **Muertos** \- Day of the Dead

 **Loco** \- crazy

 **Cuñados** \- brother(s)-in-law

 **Mí amor** \- my love

 **Sí** \- yes

 **Oye** \- Hey

 **Esperamé** \- wait for me

 **Idiota** \- idiot

 **Culatas** \- butts

Well, that's it for this chapter! See you in the next one! **¡Hasta la vista, mís amigos!**

God Bless!

Tsunami Storm


	2. Victoria

Life after Death, a ' **C** **O** **C** **O** ' fanfic by Tsunami Storm

Chapter 2: Victoria

* * *

-The Land of the Dead, 1971-

"Welcome to the Land of the Dead, **señorita**! All new arrivals should report to the Department of Family Reunions. They'll be able to help you locate your family!"

That clerk was far too bubbly for Victoria's taste. No one here should ever be _that_ happy. Everyone was _dead_ , for crying out loud! The agent vaguely reminded the young woman of her **Tía** Rosita, but Victoria was used to _her_ constant exuberance. Shaking her head in a no-nonsense sort of way, she walked briskly over to the correct department and looked for an available desk with an agent present.

She finally located one after a few minutes of searching, and sat down in the- apparently- handcrafted wicker chair that was meant for customers. And it was surprisingly comfortable to sit on, considering her form was now nothing but bones with cloth thrown over them.

"Well, **buenas tardes** , **señora**. What can I do for you today?" A small, bespectacled man- dressed in attire from the 1930s at least- asked of her politely, adjusting his glasses on the edge of the bridge of what used to be his nose and then folding his hands in front of him on the desk. It was all very precise and proper, just the way Victoria preferred it.

" **Gracias** , **señor** , I shall only take a moment of your time. My name is Victoria Rivera. I was hoping you could help me locate any of my family here?" She asked a bit nervously, wringing her hands under the desk. "And, not to be rude, but it's actually ' **señorita** '. I was never married before-" She broke off for a moment, gathered her emotions, then whispered, "-before I died."

" _¡_ Oh, **lo siento** , **señorita**! How very rude of me to make such an assumption! My sincerest apologies! You said your name was 'Rivera', correct? **Muy bueno**. If you will follow me, I can retrieve your family's file from Records and we'll try to locate any family members you may have around here."

" **Gracias** , **señor**. That would be much appreciated." Victoria smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way, but it still came out a little stiff. She'd never smiled much when she was alive, and not much could ever amuse her, except maybe her twin **tíos** , Óscar and Felipe. But they had a way of making _everyone_ in the family laugh. Even **Mamá** Imelda. Victoria sighed heavily. She _already_ missed her family back in the Land of the Living, and she had a feeling that would only get worse with time. Until the time came for her family to join her in this strange world beyond the **cempasúchil** bridge. But hopefully that wouldn't be for many more years to come. Of course, that would mean that she would be _alone_ in this strange world until that day came-

"Ah! Here we are! 'Ramirez', 'Renado', Ricardo', - Ah, found it! 'Rivera'." The short clerk announced as he pulled out the appropriate folder from the filing cabinet and flipped through it. All of a sudden, however, his eye sockets opened wide and he gained a look of surprise on his remaining facial features. "My apologies, **señorita** , but there seems to be a bit of a hiccup. It appears that there _were_ several documents of your relatives in this folder, but they have been torn out. Quite literally, I'm afraid. **Mira** , **mira** , see for yourself."

Victoria took one look at the folder before sniffing in disgust. " **Sí**. That would be the doing of my maternal great-grandparents. After my **abuelita** married that- _**músico**_ \- and ran off with the twins in tow, her family disowned her and her brothers and removed them from all family documents, including their Last Will and Testament. I guess they're _still_ bitter about it, even in death. They want nothing to do with _me_ , either. I am almost certain of this."

" **Ay, lo siento,** **señorita**. I had no idea such a simple matter would result in such a complicated situation like this. My sympathies to you and to the rest of your living family." The clerk grimaced, shocked that family feuds could escalate this far and for so long a time.

"Don't be. It's _their_ mess. I want nothing to do with _them_ either. Believe me. People like them are better off forgotten. After it happened, **abuelita** never put them on our family **ofrenda** , and she never will. Good riddance, I say." Victoria huffed with an air of finality. She didn't want to talk about this anymore. They weren't worth it.

"Again, my apologies, **señorita**. It was not my intention to dredge up bad memories." The clerk added nervously. Flipping through more of the documents in the file, he suddenly came upon something promising. "Ah! _Here_ may be something we can use! It's a relatively recent document, and it details the building of a **Zapatería** here in the Land of the Dead. It's registered to the 'Rivera' family. **Señorita** , could this be-"

" **¡Sí!** That is our workshop! **Mí familia** and I are shoemakers! **¡Qué interesante!** Buildings important to the living build themselves in the Land of the Dead as well?" Victoria interrupted excitedly, but then shrank back in bashfulness when she realized her mistake. However, the clerk merely shrugged it off, as if it were something that happened on a regular basis.

"It has been known to happen. Whenever a business is built in the Land of the Living, an analog- or 'spiritual twin', if you will- builds itself here, in the Land of the Dead. With some minor changes sometimes. For example, a medical practice would become a splint and bone repair shop here, as the dead have no need for medicine or things like that. There's also no restrooms here, as they are frankly no longer necessary. We can still eat and drink, and taste and feel, but- well, you get the idea. It's a bit difficult to explain how it all works." The man shrugged, making a face at the somewhat awkward topic.

" **Muchas gracias** _,_ **señor** , for the information, and for locating my **familia's** 'analog' workshop. I believe I can make my way from here." Victoria nodded to the helpful clerk in a gesture of farewell, and was just about to turn to leave when he spoke up again.

" **¡Un momento,** **señorita** **!** The Land of the Dead provides bus service for new arrivals for this very purpose. Come with me for a moment, and we'll see when the next bus can take you to your stop." The man smiled, his grin growing wider when he noticed Victoria's face light up with interest and the barest hint of excitement. The Land of the Dead kept finding new ways to surprise her, and she suspected that this was only the tip of the iceberg.

It turned out that there was already a single tour bus waiting at the station, already half-full of passengers excited to see the ironically lively Land of the Dead. The driver didn't even turn his skull to look at her stepping onto the bus, but the tall and rake-thin tour guide gave her a friendly smile and a small wave as she passed his seat. Victoria smiled back, but only to be polite. She didn't know him from Adam, after all. Quite nervous and feeling very out-of-place, she took an empty seat near the front of the bus, just a few rows behind the driver. She didn't want to push past too many people when she arrived at her destination.

'String bean' didn't even _begin_ to describe the friendly- and apparently quite young- tour guide. Even though everyone in the Land of the Dead was a skeleton, there was something about this young man that suggested he'd been there for quite some time. His clothes were tidy and neat- not a string out of place- but when he stood up, Victoria noticed that he had a pronounced limp in his left leg, as if he'd injured it long ago and it had never really healed. He wore a long-sleeved indigo jacket over his open ribcage, a small red neckerchief tied around his neck vertebrae, and brown pinstripe trousers held up by black suspenders. His feet- however- were bare, and Victoria could see every single tarsal and metatarsal bone in the appendages shifting back and forth, as if the young man were nervous about something.

Victoria didn't really blame him. She could be nervous with new faces too. Especially in her small hometown of **Santa Cecilia**. Maybe that's why she'd never married. Of course, she _was_ only thirty-one when she died, so that could have been a factor too. Shaking her head slightly to return her wandering mind to the present, Victoria turned her attention back to the young tour guide, studying him surreptitiously so as not to draw attention to herself, or alert him that she was watching him.

There was something about this young man. He had this sort of 'air' about him that made him instantly likable. Maybe that was why he was working as a tour guide, because it fit so well with his very approachable and ' **diablo** -may-care' personality. But, there also seemed to be a dark undercurrent to his demeanor. He appeared very friendly and outgoing, but Victoria also got the impression that he was hiding something. Something dark and painful, which had been festering like an old wound for _years_.

Suddenly, the young man stood up again and looked out over the crowd on the bus, now filled to capacity. Victoria quickly averted her eyes to avoid eye contact, not wanting to stand out. With a bright smile, the man jogged the short distance to the doors and pushed the lever to close them with a _snap_ , then returned to his position and picked up a microphone and small accordion. Putting the device between his skull and collarbone, he played a few notes on the instrument as an introduction to his prepared speech, then replaced the instrument carefully in- to Victoria's slight surprise- a medium-sized guitar case. The young man had obviously been a **músico** in his previous life. Though she and her family had been raised to hate music, she found she couldn't fault the man just because he had different tastes from hers.

" **Bienvenidos** **á** **todos** , and welcome to the Land of the Dead's ' **¡Gira de las Estrellas!** ' I am your guide, Héctor, and let me tell you, you folks are in for a _spectacular_ performance! And after that we can get on with the tour!" He chuckled to himself, and received a few titters and chuckles from his audience. Victoria just rolled her eyes. This young man reminded her a bit of Óscar and Felipe. They were always joking around too, like a pair of goofballs.

"Okay, okay, that was bad, but at least you laughed a little. A lot better than my last group. What a bunch of stiffs!" He grinned again, this time receiving several eye-rolls along with the quiet laughter.

"Heh heh. Gets 'em every time." Héctor chuckled to himself, then flipped through his note cards that he'd produced from a pocket in his trousers. "Well, now that you know about me, I think it's time we learned a bit about you! It's only fair, right? How about you, **señor**? What's your name, and how did you die?"

Victoria couldn't hear the man's name or his answer, but his death must have been pretty gruesome, because Héctor straightened up after a minute with a grimace and muttered, "Ouch!" Walking further down the aisle, Victoria was mildly terrified when he stopped in front of her seat and looked right into her brown eyes with his own- _matching_ \- ocular organs. _That_ was interesting.

"And what about you, **señorita**? What's _your_ name? How did _you_ die?" He asked with a friendly smile, and that simple gesture gave Victoria the courage to speak. "I'm- Victoria Rivera. I died of the influenza virus."

"Eesh. **Lo siento** , **señorita**." Héctor replied as a generic response, but then he paused from continuing down the aisle and looked back at her with a shocked expression. He whispered, half to himself and half to her, " _Rivera_? Could it be? No, that's-" He shook his head and continued down the aisle, asking more random passengers their names and their manner of death. As he returned to the front of the vehicle, he stage-whispered to Victoria, "Stay a little longer after the tour, **por favor** _,_ **señorita**. I just have a few questions."

Victoria was confused, but she nodded silently and managed a small smile. It was impossible to hold back a smile around this guy for long. He just had that kind of an infectious personality. Rather like her **mamá** , to be honest. Once again, she was reminded strongly of her twin **tíos** , Óscar and Felipe.

" **Gracias**." He whispered with what Victoria thought was a relieved smile that was also tinged with sadness. What an odd expression for a perfect stranger to be wearing.

The 'Tour of the Stars' continued for two hours after that 'interesting' meeting, and soon Victoria noticed that people were beginning to disembark from the bus at various stops in the city- entering restaurants, or clothing stores, or what have you. It seemed the tour was finished. True to her promise, Victoria stayed on the bus after the last passenger left, and it was just her, the bus driver, and young Héctor the tour guide still on board.

"Well, it's been a long day. 'Night, Héctor. See you tomorrow, when we do this _whole_ thing _again_." The driver groused as he opened the doors to dismiss the last two passengers. He clearly did not enjoy this aspect of his chosen profession.

" **Sí. Buenas noches,** **Chich** **. Hasta mañana**." Héctor waved before jumping over the descending stairs and landing with practiced ease on the sidewalk outside the vehicle. Then, to Victoria's surprise, he held out a hand in a very gentlemanly gesture to help her off the bus. The young woman smiled. Such chivalry was rare back in the Land of the Living. More evidence that this young man had been here for quite a long time.

"So, where are you headed, **Señorita** Rivera?" Héctor asked conversationally, and Victoria looked up at him with a small start. This young man was at least a decade younger than her, and yet he was a whole head taller. Even taller than Óscar and Felipe. [ _Exactly_ a decade, as it turns out.]

"Um, the Rivera **Zapatería**. Do you- know where that is, **Señor** Héctor?" She asked quietly and nervously, as he gave another small gasp of shock when she announced her destination.

"Of course. I know this city pretty much like the back of my hand." He answered brightly, hiding his surprise very well. Victoria could tell that he was normally the kind of young man who wore his heart on his sleeve, but for some reason he was being secretive with her. Did he- think she was untrustworthy or something like that? She'd given him no reason to doubt her integrity, had she? She'd kept her promise to remain after the tour, after all. What more could he need? What were these questions he wanted to ask, and why were they so important to him?

Unfortunately, Victoria wasn't given much time to ponder these things, as Héctor began walking briskly in one direction and she practically had to _jog_ to keep up. His strides were quite a bit longer than hers, after all.

"The **Zapatería** is just a few blocks away." He commented conversationally after a few minutes to break the awkward silence that had settled between them. "Just out of curiosity, **señorita** , since your name is 'Rivera', you- wouldn't happen to know someone named _Imelda_ Rivera, would you?" He asked shyly, and Victoria thought she heard a bit of pain leaking into his voice as he spoke her **abuelita's** name. Who _was_ this guy?

" **Sí**. She's my **abuelita**." Victoria answered shortly. Then she asked a question of her own when she saw the strangest look yet appear on the young skeleton's face. This expression was a mixture of shock, wonder, sadness and pain, and something else that she couldn't quite place. [ _Love_. Aww!] But Héctor once again covered up his emotions very quickly so she wouldn't guess what he was thinking. That wouldn't do at all. If she recognized him, and he found out that Imelda and the rest of the family _hated_ him for leaving like he did- he couldn't bear it.

" **Señor** , how do you know about my **abuelita**? Who exactly are you?" Victoria asked, and now it was Héctor's turn to turn pensive. His first thought was, _Oh great._ _Now_ _you blew it,_ _ **idiota**_ _. Of_ _course_ _she's going to be curious if you ask her questions like_ _that_ _! Why can't you be subtle for once in your- afterlife? Ah well. The_ _ **gato**_ _is out of the bag now. You have to tell her_ _something_ _. And you better make it believable. Don't give her one_ _more_ _reason to hate you, walk-away_ _ **músico**_ _that you are._

"Oh, I grew up in **Santa Cecilia** like your **abuelita**. You know, small town, everybody knows everybody, that kind of thing. We were- friends, for a very long time. Actually, I considered Imelda and the twins to be my second family, since I had no blood family of my own- being an orphan and all." He answered, of course omitting the parts that would undoubtedly blow his secret. And he didn't want to hurt any of his family any more than he already had. What he told her _was_ true, but he knew that not telling the whole truth could be just as bad as outright lying. Every bone in his body was screaming for him to just drop the charade and sweep up his granddaughter in the biggest hug, but he knew he had to hold himself back. After what he did, he no longer deserved to call himself part of the Rivera family. He was just Héctor now. No heritage, no home- no hope.

His _granddaughter_ , though! He had a _granddaughter_! His little Coco had a daughter of her own! Maybe more! If he still had a heart, it would probably have burst with happiness by now as he contemplated these wonderful notions. His tiny little family was growing bigger, even without him, and he was fine with that. As long as his family was happy, then he would be happy. Because his family was _everything_ to him. They were _all_ that mattered, in this world _and_ the next.

"You grew up with **Mamá** Imelda?" Victoria repeated, and Héctor tensed. She was getting dangerously close to figuring out the truth. But then- "You're a lot older than you look, then, **Señor** Héctor."

Héctor couldn't help it. He laughed. "Heh. **Sí**. I died in 1921, and I was twenty-one years old. Food poisoning, if you're wondering. Must've been that **chorizo** that we had. I _thought_ it tasted a little funny. Or maybe it was the tequila. Ah, we'll never know. That's long in the past. And around here, we don't dwell on the past for very long. We keep moving forward, just like the Living World- if a few decades behind when it comes to technology, but- we're getting there." He joked to lighten the tense mood, and Victoria chuckled just a little bit. As she'd observed earlier, it was impossible to keep a straight face around this guy for long.

" **Ay** , where did the time go? Well, **señorita**. It looks like we're here." Héctor observed loudly a few minutes later as they approached the Land of the Dead's version of the **Zapatería** Rivera. To Victoria's surprise- for what seemed like the nth time that evening- the establishment looked exactly like the one she called home back in the Living World. If a bit smaller. Victoria wondered why it appeared so, but then realized. This **zapatería** only had two adjoining rooms- a kitchen and bedroom- because there was only one occupant at the moment. Herself. She guessed that more rooms would build themselves as her other family members eventually arrived.

" **Muchas gracias** , **Señor** Héctor, for taking me this far out of your way." Victoria inclined her head in a small bow of thanks as Héctor just shrugged. "No worries, **señorita**. I was headed this way anyway. A friend of mine has a business just down the road from here, and I thought I'd pop in and say ' **Hola** '. Actually, _you_ might know her too. Remember Ceci, your neighbor? She was a seamstress?"

"Oh! **¡Sí!** Good old Ceci! I _do_ remember her! She always gave us great deals on thread and leather for our shoes!" Victoria smiled in the direction that Héctor was looking, fond memories of their old neighbor flowing to the front of her thoughts. Héctor smiled too, his mind in the past as well, in happier times.

"Well, at least you have _one_ friend in this neck of the woods that you know. Are you sure you'll be alright, **señorita**? All alone in that big workshop?" Héctor asked in genuine concern, even though- as far as she knew- they'd only just met a few hours ago.

" **Sí** , I'll be just fine, **señor**. My family raised me and Elena to be independent and strong. I have always done better on my own." Victoria answered, and Héctor relaxed, regaining that sparkle of wonder in his eyes when she mentioned her younger sister's name. Again, Victoria wondered, _Who_ _is_ _this_ _guy_ _? And why do I feel so- for lack of a better word-_ _safe_ _around him? It's like I've known him for_ _years_ _rather than a few mere_ _hours_ _. He has the same eyes as_ _ **mamá**_ _. And_ _me_ _. What could it mean?_

"In that case, this is where I take my leave, **señorita**. It has been an honor meeting you." Héctor smiled as he took an ostentatious bow, complete with unnecessary flourish, all in the hopes of making her smile. And he succeeded. "I'm sure I will see you around."

" **Sí** _._ **Gracias** _,_ **Señor** Héctor _._ **Hasta la vista**." Victoria waved, turning to enter the workshop as he turned to walk back down the road from which they had come. When he had walked some distance away, she could have sworn she heard him whisper- with a barely concealed sob- " **Hasta la vista-** **mí'ja**."

But she admitted that she could have imagined it too.

* * *

End of Chapter 2

I'm pretty sure I got the order wrong for the Rivera family's death dates, but this is how I think it happened. First it was Héctor in 1921, then Victoria in 1971, then Imelda in 1972, then the twins together in 1973, then Rosita sometime later in 1973, followed by Julio in 1986, and lastly Coco in 2018. I may correct it if Disney releases the official dates someday.

I always thought it would be a cute idea if Héctor was there to 'guide' Victoria home when she first arrived in the Land of the Dead, but never revealing who he was because he didn't want to hurt her unnecessarily. And he's _definitely_ gonna be keeping an eye on her over the next few years until another family member arrives, because he's an awesome grandpa who cares _so_ much about his family. Just look how he is with Miguel in the movie. Like a goofy guardian angel, minus the wings. XD

And I added a deleted scene from the movie where Héctor is a tour guide. That's such a cute scene! Well, _parts_ of it, anyway. They could have left it in with some minor changes. Hey, this is a fanfiction, I can write whatever I want. Right?

And the clerk/receptionist at the DoFR is the same one that helped the Riveras in the movie, though he doesn't have a private office yet.

Translations (for those who need them):

 **Señorita** \- miss (unmarried young woman)

 **Tía** \- aunt

 **Buenas tardes** \- good afternoon/evening

 **Señora** \- madam or lady (married woman)

 **Gracias** \- thank you

 **Señor** \- sir or mister

 **Muy bueno** \- very good

 **Tío(s)** \- uncle(s)

 **Mamá** \- mom

 **Cempasúchil** \- Marigold

 **Mira** \- look

 **Sí** \- yes

 **Abuelita** \- grandmother

 **Músico** \- musician

 **Ay** \- Oh

 **Lo siento** \- I'm sorry/my apologies

 **Ofrenda** \- family shrine

 **Zapatería** \- shoemaker business

 **Mí familia** \- my family

 **¡Qué interesante!** \- how interesting!

 **Muchas gracias** \- many thanks/thank you very much

 **Un momento** \- a moment

 **Santa Cecilia** \- Saint Cecilia (Patron saint of musicians)

 **Diablo** \- Devil

 **Bienvenidos** **á** **todos** \- welcome to all

 **Gira de las Estrellas** \- tour of the stars

 **Por favor** \- please

 **Buenas noches** \- good night

 **Amigo** \- friend

 **Hasta mañana** \- see you tomorrow

 **Idiota** \- idiot

 **Gato** \- cat

 **Chorizo** \- spicy Méxican sausage dish

 **Hola** \- hello

 **Hasta la vista** \- see you when I see you

 **Mí'ja** \- a shortened version of **Mí híja** \- my daughter

God Bless!

Tsunami Storm


	3. Socorro

Life after Death, a ' **C** **O** **C** **O** ' fanfic by Tsunami Storm

Chapter 3: Socorro

* * *

 **-Abril 1st, año 2017-**

" _-and to the Land that would become my prison- for the next ninety-six years."_

Héctor leaned back in the armchair in the Rivera family's sitting room in the Land of the Dead, finishing his tale and scratching his faithful **alebrije** \- and apparently Miguel's- behind the floppy ears, much to Dante's pleasure. "I know, not exactly a happy ending, but you all know how it ends. I'm _here_ , aren't I?" He joked to lighten the mood somewhat after his depressing tale.

"So, the **perro** is _your_ **alebrije** as well as **Miguelito's**? How is that possible?" Imelda asked, fully invested in her late husband's story and sitting on the edge of her seat. Beside her, their granddaughter Victoria was furiously copying all of this down in a notebook that someone- probably Elena- had left on the **ofrenda** years ago just for her. Her **hermana** had obviously remembered that she'd liked to write short stories in her spare time when she was alive. Victoria now suspected that she got her 'artistic' side from her **abuelo** , as **Mamá** Imelda never really approved of all of that fanciful 'fluff' like art or fiction stories. To say nothing of _music_. But all of that was in the past now. Nowadays, it would be a very rare occurrence to find either **Zapatería** silent as the family worked on honing their craft- Héctor in the Land of the Dead or Miguel in the Living world- serenading their families with both well-known songs or ones that they just made up on the spot.

Seated on the love-seat were Julio and his sister Rosita, also engrossed in the tale that their **papá** -in-law was weaving. Rosita was forced to hold back small sniffles every five minutes- it seemed- during the telling, her metaphorical heart nearly breaking multiple times for her **hermanita's** **papá**. All this time, he'd just been trying to get home! It was all nearly too much for the matronly skeleton.

In two identical armchairs on the opposite side of the room sat Imelda's brothers, Óscar and Felipe, who kept exchanging guilty glances as Héctor finally explained the story of his death- no, his _murder_ \- to the family. _They_ were part of the reason Héctor never explained himself to Imelda. They would chase him off half the time to spare their **hermana** the heartbreak that would surely come from seeing his face again.

Héctor smiled softly, continuing his tale. "Oh, on the first **Día de** **Muertos** when I found I couldn't cross the bridge, I just went for the next best thing." He shrugged, ruthlessly squashing the bad memories before they had a chance to surface in his mind and ruin the mood. "I sent my **alebrije** to watch over my family _for_ me. Not that I ever stopped trying to get over myself. Dante never had any problems crossing the bridge, and- even if he did- he had wings to fly over the ravine if the bridge disappeared before he could return. I guess he stayed over in the Land of the Living _so long_ that he actually forgot he was an **alebrije**. He looked pretty shocked on Pepita's back after you fished us out of that **cenote**." He chuckled, recalling the harrowing night of the most recent **Día de** **Muertos** with a fond smile. He couldn't be more proud of his great-great grandson- no, of his _hero_. Miguel had saved his _life_ \- er, _afterlife_ \- almost at the cost of his own. Not to mention that he'd brought his whole family back together, and even lifted the century-long ban on music. If _that_ didn't qualify him as a hero, Héctor didn't know what would.

"So _that's_ why that street dog was always hanging around the **Zapatería**!" Imelda smiled, raising an eye-ridge at her goofy but surprisingly resourceful husband. "And here I often blamed Coco because she kept _feeding_ the mooching pooch." She laughed abashedly, pulling a few loose strands of hair back into her bun in a gesture of bashful discomfort. Héctor remembered that she would tuck those strands behind her ear when she was alive, and she always did it when he inevitably made her blush at something he did or said.

" _That's_ my girl!" Héctor laughed, slapping his patella and beaming from ear hole to ear hole. "So I guess you had _two_ **alebrijes** guarding the family in **Santa Cecilia** , after little Pepita- um- you know."

" **Sí**. But I should have known that Pepita would never let something as little as dying of old age keep her from the family she loved. Ever since you found her- a half-starved kitten in that drain pipe during that terrible rainstorm- and gave her the last pieces of your sandwich, she adopted every one of our family members as her 'pets'. Remember, with cats, the **gato** owns _you_ , not the other way around." Imelda giggled, and Héctor closed his eyes in bliss at the sound. Oh, how he'd missed hearing the sound of his beloved's laughter! It was like a chorus of angels.

"I _may_ have introduced her to the family, but that **gato** never _did_ like me very much." Héctor chuckled, his mind in the past. " _You_ , however- well, she never left you alone, did she? And our little Coco- Pepita was always as sweet as **azúcar** with her. _I_ kept getting hisses and threats of claws." He laughed, tossing a lopsided smirk out the window at Pepita, who was curled up in the courtyard next to the fountain. As if she knew people were talking about her, she raised her head just enough to look in through the window, gave a halfhearted, sleepy growl, then went right back to her **siesta**. That earned her a few chuckles from the deceased Riveras, and a few of them shook their heads slightly in mock exasperation.

"Now, Héctor, you're not being entirely fair." Imelda chided gently, just a hint of teasing in her voice. "If Pepita didn't like you at _all_ , she wouldn't have let you hold onto her tail when we got you and Miguel out of that sinkhole."

"Ah, but that's where we disagree, **mí amor**." Héctor chuckled back, also gently teasing to continue the joke. " _I_ think it was because **Miguelito** _insisted_ that I come back with you, that Pepita let me come within _ten feet_ of her. Like I said, she _really_ doesn't like me."

"She likes _you_ more than _me_ though, **Papá** Héctor." Julio laughed nervously, speaking up for the first time. "It took _forever_ for her to trust me when I was dating Coco. She was harder to win over than **Mamá** Imelda!" He chuckled, his head barely visible above his collar and under his ten-gallon cowboy hat. "And I don't think that's changed, even though we've both been _here_ for almost fifty years."

"Hey, at least she never broke any of your _bones_!" Héctor huffed, feigning offense. He looked down at his right lowermost rib and pointed to the portion that was duct-taped together, just like his ulna when he and Chicharron had met. "I got _this_ for just trying to explain myself, and that **gato loco** pounces on me, bats me up in the air with those huge paws of hers, then sends me flying halfway across the _**ciudad**_ with that spin kick that she used on Ernesto last **Día de** **Muertos**." He huffed, sending a halfhearted glare out the window to the source of his discomfort, but Pepita was already asleep, peacefully sunning herself in the afternoon glow of the celestial fireball. Seeing this, Héctor huffed in disappointment and rested his chin on his hand and his elbow on his knee, making a pouting face that made him look rather silly.

Victoria, always the practical one, was piqued. "So how did you break your leg, then? You were limping pretty badly when we confronted De la Cruz at the Sunrise Spectacular. Or should I say, 'Ernesto de la CREEP'." She smirked.

Héctor snorted, his bad mood quickly forgotten at his granddaughter's sense of humor. "That's a good one, **mí'ja**! Mind if I use that from now on?" He laughed, and Victoria nodded with a smug smile. But then Héctor's smile turned upside down again as he returned to the past.

"Right after he died, I went to ask him what happened after he- disappeared in **México** City. I wanted to ask him why he passed off _my_ songs as his own, and why he never gave me any credit for them. Not even posthumously." He explained, his mood once again souring as he thought of his former friend. He gave a small, shy smile to his family, then dropped the bomb. "I never even made it past the front gate. His **seguridad** roughed me up, then threw me out- quite literally- and I landed badly on an ancient Aztec temple of some kind. Cold, hard, unyielding stone. That's also when I got the other clothes that I had when I eventually met Miguel. My old **charro** \- well- it pretty much got shredded to pieces in that scuffle. I couldn't walk around in my birthday suit- figuratively speaking- so I bought the cheapest outfit I could get, with what little change I still had on me from selling that train ticket to an antique collector."

" **¡Ay,** **Díos** **mio!** " Rosita gasped. "You poor soul! You have had such a hard time here, from the very beginning! Now I wish we'd disobeyed **Mamá** Imelda and put your **fóto** up on **Día de** **Muertos**! I know Coco kept that torn piece in that scrapbook of hers, along with all the letters you managed to send home." She blurted, but then clapped a hand over her mouth when Imelda gave her a scandalized look. "Oops! You weren't supposed to hear that!" She mumbled through her covered mouth as the rest of the family continued to gape at her while Héctor laughed out loud with another " _That's_ my girl!", releasing a proud **grito** to the heavens and startling Pepita in the courtyard- who gave an annoyed hiss and flew off to find a quieter place to nap.

"You _knew_? You _knew_ that she kept that piece all those years? And you never _told_ us?!" Imelda breathed, still flabbergasted.

"Eh-heh heh heh." Rosita laughed nervously, twiddling her thumbs. "Like I said, you weren't supposed to hear that. Coco asked me to keep it a secret. I- like her- always believed that her **papá** didn't leave on purpose. And that if he _could_ have come home, he _would_ have. But **Mamá** never listened when we tried to tell her that. It hurt too much, I suppose." She looked down, unable to face either of her in-laws in the room, who were both gaping at her in silence- though with entirely different expressions on their faces. Imelda was shocked at her audacity and secretiveness all these years, and Héctor was shocked that someone in the family had actually figured out- and believed- the truth.

"You haven't changed at all, **mí corazón**." Héctor smiled. "Still as proud as ever. And stubborn as a **burro**." He teased with a beaming grin aimed directly at his wife, who would have blushed if it were possible. "No _wonder_ you never let me explain until Miguel literally ran into us."

"I _should_ have, though." Imelda frowned, guilt over her actions over the past eighty-plus years burning in her chest cavity. "I should have _known_ that something went wrong when you didn't come home. The letters didn't stop gradually. It was all of a sudden and with no warning. That should've been the biggest sign that something was terribly wrong."

"It's all in the past, **mí vida**." Héctor smiled sadly. "I'm just glad that Coco still remembers me, and that she's telling my stories to the rest of our **familia**."

"I would have liked to have met this Chicharron." Victoria commented suddenly. "He seemed like he was a good friend."

Héctor smiled softly. "He _was_ a good friend. My _first_ friend over here on this side of the bridge. I'm sure you would have liked him, **mí'ja** , had you gotten to know him. You _did_ meet, very briefly, when you first got here. He was the driver on the tour bus." He continued with a sly grin, his mind filled with memories of his friend who had helped him on countless occasions, and not just with attempts to cross the bridge, either. He'd helped to bind up Héctor's tibia when he'd broken it, using more of his stash of duct tape that he'd had for who knew how long. Silently, Héctor prayed that his friend would find peace, wherever he was, wherever the souls of the Forgotten ended up after they were claimed by the 'Final Death'.

"I'm glad Miguel got to meet him too," Héctor smirked, thinking of his best friend and great-great grandson, and their journey together. "-before he passed on. It was because of _Chich_ and _Miguel_ that I really started to _like_ playing music again. After the first few decades, I got sick of people saying that they liked Ernesto's 'originals' better than my songs. Pah!" He scoffed sourly, glaring at a random spot on the floor as if it were responsible for all his problems.

"So, you didn't play music for half a _century_?" Óscar asked, speaking up for the first time. "But how? Music is in your _blood_ , **cuñado** , in your very _soul_. It must have been almost _painful_ to not play."

Héctor shrugged. "Well, I didn't play in public, but I would pluck out a random tune now and again, either on Chich's guitar or on that accordion that I used to use when I guided tours. Except for one. I _always_ sang 'Remember Me'. Every night. And I knew, somehow, that Coco was singing right along with me. On especially clear nights, I could almost hear her little voice accompanying mine." He smiled sadly, looking fondly up at the ceiling as he imagined his little girl- how he remembered her.

That sparked a memory in the second-youngest skeleton in the room. "You used to be a tour guide?" Victoria breathed, then she gasped aloud when her **abuelo** smiled at her slightly sheepishly. "Of _course_! How could I have missed it?! It was _you_! _You_ were the friendly **muchacho** who brought me to the **Zapatería** when I first arrived! I can't believe I forgot about that!" Then she chuckled. "You're even wearing the exact same _clothes_! They're looking quite shabby now, but it's the _same_ outfit!"

Héctor laughed too, bashful. "Well, the **sombrero** is new- ish- but yeah, everything else is the same." He pulled at the hem of his jacket. "I've had these for about seventy-five years. It makes sense that they'd be a little- um- worn. Especially after all my harebrained schemes to get across that dumb flower bridge." He smiled at his beloved granddaughter, then crossed the room in three long strides and caught her up in the biggest hug he could manage without breaking any bones.

"I've wanted to do this since the moment I realized." Héctor breathed in a near-sob, nearly on the verge of tears as he _finally_ got to embrace his granddaughter. "But I somehow knew that the family _hated_ me for leaving the way I did, and I didn't want to hurt you any more than I already had. I did the same for Rosita and Julio when they got here- meaning, I guided them home to the **Zapatería** \- but I made sure to stay out of sight with Imelda, Óscar and Felipe. Couldn't have them recognizing me, now could I?" He asked facetiously and grinning slyly at his wife and _cuñados_ , who all wore identical masks of guilt on their bony faces.

" **Ay** , Héctor." Imelda sighed in mock exasperation. "What are we going to do with you?" She asked rhetorically with a shake of her head. Then, in a moment of inspiration, she slapped her kneecap- exactly like her husband had earlier- and remarked, "Before we do _anything_ , you need some new clothes. _No_ member of the Rivera family is going to walk around in _rags_! Or, **Díos** forbid, _barefoot_! That's it! **¡Sígueme,** **mí familia** **!** We're making you a new pair of shoes _right_ this minute!"

Needing no more prompting than that, the six Riveras who were shoemakers scrambled from their seats and disappeared into the adjoining workshop before one could say ' **Zapatería** ', leaving Héctor blinking owlishly and sitting on the couch with his mouth slightly open.

When the patriarch of the Rivera family finally collected his thoughts enough to follow his relatives, what he saw nearly made his jaw drop right off his face. The workshop was a literal whirlwind of activity, with Riveras running here and there with different pieces of leather, foam shoe forms, nails and laces, all looking to Imelda for instruction. She was the woman with the plan, after all.

Héctor watched his family with a mild smirk on his face as they raced around like headless **pollos** , gradually transforming the various small pieces of leather into the best pair of shoes Héctor had ever owned. And he knew without a doubt that they would be the best. Imelda never stood for anything less than perfection, and demanded that her family- living _and_ dead- abide by the same standards.

Eventually, the shoes stopped at Óscar's station to be sanded, and his big sister fixed him with an expectant glare. "You be careful with those now, **hermano**. I will _not_ have them end up in the ceiling like so many of those other pairs of wasted shoes." She chided in a way that was half-teasing, but completely serious at the same time. Óscar nodded fervently, and made sure that his grip was extra firm as he sanded the edge of the shoes. Confused at his wife's words, Héctor cocked his head for a moment, then looked up to the ceiling above his younger **cuñado**. And had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle a bark of laughter when reality proved his Imelda's words all too true. The ceiling was peppered with all manner of shoes, boots, sandals and even _**chanclas**_ that had slipped out of the skeleton's hands and became lodged between the boards of the workshop's ceiling.

Finishing with the right shoe and starting on the left, Óscar grinned sheepishly at Héctor, who was still giggling at the amusing sight of all the shoes in the ceiling. Somebody should try to get those down one of these days. _Maybe_ _I_ _can do it one of these days, if_ _Imelda_ _lets me._ He thought absently.

"Yeah, I've got butterfingers with this thing sometimes." The older skeleton explained as he returned his eyes to his work. "I'll never forget the first time it happened. It was when we were still alive. I was just sanding a pair of flip-flops for an order, and I was almost finished with the last one, when all of a sudden, Pepita just waltzed into the workshop and jumped on my bench without warning. Well, naturally, she scared the **pantalones** off me, and I lost my concentration and my grip on the shoe. The **Chancla** went right into the ceiling, Pepita shot like a **bala** back into the house, then Imelda marched over and smacked me as hard as she could with the other shoe. Right in the _face_."

Both boys laughed at the matriarch's passion, then Héctor put a hand on his **cuñado's** shoulder. "I know how you feel, **amigo**. My first ' **Chancla** ' was from Imelda, too. I won her over eventually, but she'd never cared much for music in the beginning. And I was stupid and crazy enough to serenade her as a way of asking her to go out with me. It was both the best and worst decision I'd ever made in my life. I may have gained a girlfriend and eventual wife that day, but I also lost a tooth. You're a _lot_ stronger than you look, **mí** _'_ **Poco Loco** _'_." He beamed over at his wife- who might have blushed if it were possible- showcasing his gold tooth for the whole workshop to see.

"Oh stop it, you **gran payaso**." Imelda sniffed, folded her arms and looked away, but she was wearing a big grin on her face that ruined the effect of her actions slightly.

"You know you love me." Héctor teased, playfully elbowing her in the humerus and grinning wider when she elbowed him right back.

" _Do_ I know that?" Imelda pretended to think, tapping her chin with a forefinger. "Yes. Yes, I do." Her smile faded slightly, then she continued in a small voice, "I never stopped. Not _once_. That's why it hurt so much. **Ay** , I was such a fool. I _wanted_ to forget you, because it hurt too much to remember you. I wanted _Coco_ to forget you too, but- we never could. Coco could _never_ forget her **papá** , and I could never forget my one true love. The **músico loco** , Héctor Rivera."

"You got _that_ right!" Héctor laughed, picking up his beloved wife and spinning her around before squeezing her to his chest in a big hug. "And _you_ _make_ me **loco** , with your love. Why do you think I wrote that song for you? If _I'm_ **loco** , then _you_ have to be too, because you _married_ this **músico loco**!" He laughed, spinning around again and making Imelda echo his infectious laughter.

By this time, Óscar had finished sanding Héctor's new shoes, and had gone to stand by his twin near the workshop door. Leaning over to his brother, one twin asked, "How long has it been since we've seen her _this_ happy, **hermano**?"

"Almost a _century_ , **hermano**." answered the other twin, a mirror of his brother's smirk on his thin face. "Ever since Héctor was in her life, she was as happy as anyone could be. And now that he's _finally_ back with us, she's found that happiness again."

" _Now_ all we're missing is Coco, and it'll be like the past _ninety-six years_ never even happened." The first twin commented. Then he added, "I mean, I don't want her to die, but- I think everyone knows that her time's drawing near. She's got to be a hundred years old by now. That's a _very_ long life. Not many here can claim they lived to be a century old."

"I just hope it's peaceful. When it does happen." A small voice sounded from somewhere behind them, and the brothers turned to see their **cuñado** standing there, eyes downcast and Imelda at his side, gently holding his arm. "Peaceful and quiet, surrounded by family. That's every person's wish when **Dama Muerte** comes to take them to their next adventure. But, obviously, it doesn't happen for everyone. But I hope it _does_ happen that way. If _anyone_ deserves it that way, it's our Coco."

At that moment, Pepita picked up her head from where she had been sunning herself in the courtyard, alerted by a sound that could only be heard by **alebrijes**. And it was one that the experienced jaguar-hybrid had heard many times in her long afterlife:

The sound of a new arrival in the Land of the Dead.

"What is it, Pepita?" The Rivera family matriarch asked of her spirit guide, and the gigantic feline laid flat on her stomach so that her favorite human could climb onto her back. When Imelda was safely seated between her shoulder-blades, the multicolored jaguar turned to her human's mate and flicked her large head, signalling for him to get on as well. Héctor was shocked, but hid it well as he clambered onto the large cat's back behind his wife. Then the **alebrije** and her two passengers took off into the setting sun toward the river that separated the two worlds.

-At the Department of Family Reunions-

"Welcome to the Land of the Dead, **señora**!" A bubbly agent beamed as a white-haired skeleton stepped off the glistening **cempasúchil** bridge and through a doorway marked 'New Arrivals'. "We're so delighted to meet you! Could you tell us your name, so that we can contact any family members you may have over here?"

The woman nodded, giving her name to the friendly and significantly younger skeleton that greeted her. The younger woman nodded and activated her radio, paging one of her coworkers to make an announcement over the PA system.

A sudden rush of air made the aged skeleton woman look up, and the sight before her eyes made her gasp, even though she no longer possessed lungs. A giant, winged jaguar with the horns of a ram, the hind legs of an eagle and the tail of a lizard soared over her head, and the woman noticed that one of its passengers was wearing a hauntingly familiar purple dress. She didn't immediately recognize the second rider, but she noticed that he was very tall and wore a straw sombrero, blue coat, brown pants and chocolate-brown shoes.

The enormous animal landed gracefully on the stones of the ancient temple that had been converted to something resembling a station of some kind, and angled one of its wings to the ground so its passengers could disembark safely. Upon seeing the couple, the woman gasped aloud again, immediately recognizing the woman in the purple dress. It was her mother and matriarch of the family, Imelda Rivera.

Another gasp of utter shock and indescribable wonder escaped the woman's mouth when her eyes left the skeletal form of her mother and shifted to the man that had accompanied her. Standing next to his wife- and looking as though he'd belonged there all along- was a man that Socorro thought that she would never see again, but that she'd hoped to see her whole life.

" _ **Papá**_?" She breathed as her jaw fell open and nearly dropped right off her face.

The man looked up at the sound of the familial title, then experienced a jaw-dropping moment of his own as his mandible mirrored that of his daughter's. Throwing all caution to the wind and ignoring every other thing in the enormous station, Héctor Rivera ran faster than he ever had in his life _and_ death toward the old woman standing there in sandals, a coral shawl and a nightdress- a single word on his lips as his mouth opened into the widest, beaming smile that anyone present had ever seen- and he cried out that word at the top of his voice for all the world to hear, the word he'd been waiting to use again for nearly one hundred years:

" _COCO_!"

* * *

End of Chapter 3

Wow. I had happy tears in my eyes when I wrote this chapter. The whole thing. Yes, I'm a sap. Deal with it. XD It's just so cute!

I should think it's pretty obvious, since this is a fanfiction, but all of the ideas and concepts in this story are just from my own crazy noggin. And I don't own anything you recognize. So please don't sue a poor author like me! Eep!

In my defense, all of this sounds like it could have happened in the movie or afterwards, right? (or before the movie, in the case of the flashback scenes) I didn't make it too weird? I would greatly appreciate your feedback on this! *wink wink*

And I know this isn't clear in the chapter, but I think Coco was born on April 1st, 1917. And her death was the same day, exactly 100 years later. Yes, in my story, she died on her birthday. The same as her **papá**. Awww! I think that's really poetic.

On that note, I also think that Socorro(Miguel's sister) was born on Mama Coco's birthday, so the Rivera family still has a 'Coco' with the same birthday. **¡Feliz Cumpleaños, mí'jas!**

Translations (for those [like me] who need them):

 **Abril** \- April

 **Alebrije** \- spirit creature guides, usually appear as multicolored chimeras

 **Perro** \- dog

 **Miguelito** \- little Miguel

 **Ofrenda** \- family shrine assembled on _Día de los_ _Muertos_

 **Hermana** \- sister

 **Abuelo** \- grandfather

 **Hermanita** \- little sister (in this case, sister-in-law, but Rosita saw Coco as her sister)

 **Día de (los)** **Muertos** \- Day of the Dead, _Méxican_ holiday on November 1st

 **Cenote** \- well/sinkhole

 **Zapatería** \- shoemaker business

 **Gato** \- cat

 **Azúcar** \- sugar

 **Siesta** \- nap

 **Mí amor** \- my love

 **Loco** \- crazy

 **Ciudad** \- city

 **Mí'ja** \- short for **Mí híja** \- my daughter (granddaughter in this case)

 **Seguridad** \- security

 **Ay** \- Oh

 **Díos** **mio** \- my God

 **Fóto** \- photo

 **Grito** \- shout/yell

 **Mí corazón** \- my heart

 **Burro** \- donkey

 **Mí vida** \- my life

 **Familia** \- family

 **Cuñado** \- brother-in-law

 **Muchacho** \- young man

 **Sombrero** \- wide-brimmed hat

 **Sígueme** \- follow me

 **Pollos** \- chickens

 **Hermano** \- brother

 **Chanclas** \- flip-flops (Also, the deadliest weapon in _México_. XD)

 **Pantalones** \- pants

 **Bala** \- bullet

 **Poco Loco** \- little crazy (Also one of Héctor's famous songs, written while dating Imelda)

 **Gran payaso** \- big clown

 **Músico loco** \- crazy musician

 **Dama Muerte** \- Lady Death

 **Cempasúchil** \- marigold

 **Señora** \- madam/lady (used for a married woman or woman of importance)

 **Feliz Cumpleaños** \- Happy Birthday

 **¡Hasta la vista, mis amigos!**

God Bless!

Tsunami Storm


End file.
